The toss of the dice
by anniefarokh
Summary: It is Greg's turn to sing. However, some feelings, alcohol and karaoke should never be together at the same place. "I am not talking about this damn party, Mycroft! I am talking about me. You have destroyed me!" Bastard!Mycroft, a hurtful past and drunk!Lestrade. What could go wrong? ((Mystrade))
1. I don't wanna burn in paradise

**Hello, my dears!**

**Haha, I couldn't control myself, I love Mystrade so much! Don't worry about this: I will make a series about the past relationship between them! \o/ It is good, isn't it? So, be ready for more: teenlock, fluff, angst and, I hope, a happy ending!**

**And, of course, you should listen to "What It Takes" - Aerosmith!**

**Thank you so much for reading this!**

**PS: English is not my first language and this isn't beta'ed either. Please, tell me if I have made any mistake, right?**

**PS2: To fully understand this, I recommend you to read "We've been to hell and back again", another fic of mine.**

* * *

Heavens, it was the worst week of his life!

First, Mycroft had a meeting with the Primer Minister about some terrorist attack in London. Second, he had to make legwork to rescue Sherlock and bring him back.

With no word of thanks!

And now, this.

"Anthea?" He called through the device on his table.

"It is Jane this time, Sir." She answered, entering the office and closing the door behind her.

Mycroft nodded, glancing towards his desk. "What is this envelope?"

It took one look to Anthea, or better, Jane recognize it.

"That is an invitation for the Detective Inspector Lestrade's birthday."

He nodded again, crossing his legs and arms at the same time.

"And who sent this?"

"The Yard, Sir."

Mycroft took the envelope and looked it carefully.

"Is it a surprise party?"

"Not at all, Sir. The Detective Inspector knows about it."

He carefully played with it on his fingers.

"And why would the DI send me an invitation?"

Jane remained still under his gaze.

"It wasn't him, Sir. John Watson and Mary Morstan, his fiancé, are the ones in charge of the guests list."

Mycroft nodded quickly, turning his attention to his papers. Jane nodded too and left the room.

The older Holmes waited until the door closed. Sighing deeply, he dialed one number on his phone.

"Doctor Watson?"

"Yes, Mycroft. What do you want?"

The British Government chuckled silent.

"Am I disturbing anything?"

"Would you hang up if you were?"

"Probably not. " He chuckled again, unable to avoid it. Then Mycroft remembered his motive and the smile faded on his face. "May I ask you why I was invited to Detective Inspector Lestrade's Birthday?"

It was John's time to chuckle.

"The proper question is why you shouldn't have been invited."

The older Holmes sighed.

"My relationship with the Detective Inspector is entirely professional."

"Oh, really? What… Wait a minute." Mycroft heard John yelling at someone. "I am so sorry, Mycroft. Sherlock told me you and Gregory were friends for years, I thought… God, forgive me. Forget it."

Mycroft frowned. Was Sherlock trying to do some prank on him or did he really know what happened between them? Despite all his efforts to forget it, Mycroft and Gregory surely had had a past. A hurtful past.

"Thank you, John. Maybe I should drop by to say my best wishes. After all, he took care of Sherlock so many times."

Both chuckled. Then, the line went dead.

For nothing on Earth Mycroft would admit it, but he was eager to see how was Gregory going after all these two years.

* * *

Gregory Lestrade was really, really happy on that day. His credibility was restored, there was no bad feelings between him and Sally and Anderson, Sherlock was alive, John was moving on with his life, his divorce didn't hurt that much anymore and all his friends were here to celebrate his birthday.

It was the most awesome day ever!

Of course, as the host, the DI stood at the door to welcome every guest. Even when Sherlock arrived insulting him and everyone, he just smiled and hugged the younger Holmes.

However, when Anthea arrived, his smiled faded.

"I am sorry, whatever is your name now, to be rude, but this is my birthday and I am not going to meet your posh boss today."

She smiled, freeing the way. Looking behind her, Gregory saw a ginger hair and the most beautiful eyes on Earth.

Crap.

"What a manner to receive your guests, Detective Inspector. I almost feel at home. " Said the man with an smirk.

Gregory turned his hands into fists.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft faked an innocent expression.

"Didn't you know? I was invited."

"Invited?" Said Gregory with widened eyes. What on hell was going on? There was no reason to Mycroft be invited. Not at all! "This is impossible."

"Ask John and Sherlock yourself. For my little brother, you and I apparently have a beautiful and ancient friendship. I am here to honour that estament."

Lestrade closed his eyes, unable to avoid it.

"I am warning you, Mycroft. One more word of it and I am out of here. I am going to stay in the same place with you against my will only because of my guests, and not without some effort. Don't mess with me."

The older Holmes nodded and walked to his table, where Jane was already sitting, without another word. Inside his head, however, Mycroft was surprised. After all these years, Gregory's hurt feelings still on.

Greg took a deep breath, avoiding to follow the man with his eyes. Gosh, why would deserve that? Why couldn't Mycroft stay away from his life?

Sighing again and putting a smile on his face, Greg walked to the stage, talked to his guests and invited Sherlock to sing, who, against all odds, didn't complain about it.

When Sherlock began to sing Killer Queen, however, Gregory almost laughed out loud. Of course Mycroft was the reason!

Mycroft… Shaking his head, he ordered some whiskey, unable to avoid it. When John and Sherlock have finally recognized his feelings in front of everyone, Greg became even more depressed.

At least, one Holmes had a heart after all…

When his turn of singing came, he was drunk, feeling slightly dizzy. Taking the microphone, he waited the tempo and began to sing:

_There goes my old boyfriend_

_Well there's another diamond ring_

_And all those late night promises_

_I guess they don't mean a thing_

Everyone looked startled for a moment. Have the DI just said "boyfriend", not "girlfriend"?

Mycroft looked directly at Greg, starting to have a bad feeling about that. The man was drunk and the British Government presence was making him suffer… Oh, no. He wouldn't do that!

Gregory wouldn't dare to sing and expose to everyone his relationship with Mycroft!

_So baby what's the story_

_Did you find another man_

_Is it easy to sleep in the bed that we made_

_When you don't look back_

_I guess the feelings start to fade away_

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, worried. The younger looked back, arching an eyebrown. Oh, did he notice that too? For a moment, Mycroft felt an urge to make Sherlock pay for this. It was his fault, the bloody bastard!

_I used to feel your fire_

_But now it's cold inside_

_And you're back on the street_

_Like you didn't miss a bit, yeah_

Gregory was with eyes shut, an expression of total pain and loneliness that made the people whisper about it. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't he happy?

_Tell me what it takes to let you go_

_Tell me how the pain's supposed to go_

_Tell me how it is_

_That you can sleep_

_In the night without thinking you lost_

_Everything that was good in your life to the toss of the dice_

_Tell me what it takes to let you go_

After Sherlock had whispered something at his ear, John looked mad at Mycroft. The older rolled his eyes.

_Boy before I met you_

_I was f. I. n. e. fine_

_But your love made me a prisoner_

_Yeah my heart's been doin' time_

Now everyone was sure Gregory was singing to a man. And more: this man was at the karaoke-place too. Who was he? Anderson, perhaps?

_Spent me up like money_

_Well then you hung me out to dry_

_It was easy to keep all your lies in disguise_

_'cause you had me deep with the devil in your eyes_

Some people noticed John and Sherlock' glares at Mycroft and started to eye him too, trying to find out what the man had with that.

_Tell me what it takes to let you go_

_Tell me how the pain's supposed to go_

_Tell me how it is_

_That you can sleep_

_In the night without thinking you lost_

_Everything that was good in your life to the toss of the dice_

_Tell me what it takes to let you go_

Gregory looked direct at Mycroft's table, and the redhead couldn't suppress a shiver, the bad feeling growing even more.

_Tell me that you're happy that you're on your own_

_Tell me that it's better when you're all alone_

There was some tears appearing at Greg's eyes. With an impulse, the Di ran out of the stage to Mycroft's table, grab the front of the man's coat and started to sing right at the older's face:

_Tell me that your body doesn't miss my touch_

_Tell me that my lovin' didn't mean that much_

_Tell me you ain't dyin' when you're cryin' for me_

With that, Gregory dropped the microphone on the floor and left the bar, unable to look back.

Mycroft sighed and stood up, coming after the DI. He was glad he told Anthea – no, Jane – to do nothing even if Greg tried something. The detective would be dead by now.

Not that Mycroft wouldn't kill him, of course, because Gregory had made him angry too.

The older found the DI some blocks away, with many tears running down his face.

"Gregory."

"Go away. Look what you have done!"

Mycroft shrugged.

"I haven't done anything, Gregory. You were the one who started to sing, anyway…"

The DI pushed him hard against the wall, unable to control his angry.

"I am not talking about this damn party, Mycroft! I am talking about me. You have destroyed me!" He let go Mycroft's coat, cleaning away his tears with another hand. "You can't control yourself, right?" He sighed, trying to feel more calm. It was useless. "I loved you so much, but you couldn't be with me. I tried to be happy without you, but you couldn't allow that, could you? I am yours, right? I've always been yours…"

Mycroft was wordless. Of course he knew everything about it (for God's sake, it was this way about twenty years now), but still, Greg's reaction did surprise him.

"I apologize if I have made you feel this way, Gregory."

Greg's eyes widened with the indignation.

"You are /sorry/? Oh, don't worry, apologies accepted. Now, go to your posh place with your posh arse and be happy, Mycroft Holmes."

He only watched as Gregory started to walk away. For the first time on his life, he didn't know what to do.


	2. Late Night Promises

_**31 years ago**_

Gregory Lestrade – or Greg – arrives early that day at college. As the captain of the rugby team and one of the best students of his class, he wants to make sure that everything will be normal on the first day of the semester.

_(Of course, he is wrong. There is nothing normal about it.)_

He exiles deeply as he waits. In and out. His mates arrive a bit later and they enjoy a conversation about sports and girls.

As it is expected, Greg doesn't tell his friends that he is bisexual – in 1983, it is not an easy revelation to do. The prejudice is worst than ever – however, when a ginger boy with posh clothes arrives the class, he can't avoid and his eyes scan the boy's body up and down.

"I know he is a freaky, Greg, but don't stare too much", David warns him, misunderstanding his looks at the boy. "His name is Mycroft Holmes and he can tell your life story just by looking at you."

Greg lifts an eyebrow, but can't avoid to feel admiration for the boy. He, alone, has made the entire team – the strongest boys in college – tremble in fear.

Accepting his friend's advice, Greg changes the subject:

"Is everything fine for tonight?", he whispers. The boys in uni have a meeting every Monday: a fight club, which is, of course, completely against the rules.

Tommy, his other friend, nods with expectation.

"Yeah, yeah. I can't wait for it! My fist is dying to break some noses!"

They laugh a bit, but the teacher arrives and the conversation is over.

* * *

_**Later, in that evening**_

Greg can't suppress a shiver when he stares at the most beautiful blue eyes on Earth.

_(That perception will chase him almost every day in the future)_

What is Mycroft Holmes doing at the fight club? Greg understands that he scares the hell when he reads you – but this? It is physical and his skinny body doesn't look really strong.

Plus, the other boys are dying to break that posh nose of his. The redhead is insane!

As the captain, Greg decides to make the things a lot easier for the boy (he doesn't know why, but he wants to protect him): he challenges Mycroft for the boy's first fight. The other only nods, a dangerous brightness at his eyes.

Greg only wears shorts now, but Mycroft still wears his trousers and an expensive shirt. The bell rings and they start to dance around each other, looking for any chance to disarm the opponent.

Greg watches Mycroft anxiously: the boy' moviments are perfect, of course he is a trained fighter. What a surprise! Is there anything Mycroft Holmes can't do?

When one strong punch reaches his chin, Greg realizes that he has distracted himself, giving the perfect opportunity to Mycroft defeat him. He tries to stay calm and ignore the pain, but the other boy is much faster: the Holmes punches his mouth, one ear and, to finish, his belly.

The room falls silent when Greg collapse on the floor with a thud. Nobody believes! That weak boy really has defeated one of the most strong and skilled fighters at college?

Mycroft waits for another challenge, but everyone is so surprised that they can't speak. Rolling his eyes, he extends a hand to Greg, who accepts it with a growl.

"What are you waiting for?", Lestrade yells, trying to keep himself stand. "Fight, you bastards!"

He and Mycroft leave the ring as soon as possible. An ironic smile dances at the ginger's mouth.

"What is so funny?", asks Greg a little too harsh.

"They are.", Mycroft says, smirking even more. "They were so excited to make me kiss the floor, weren't they?"

Greg nods.

"Not anymore. I think you've made yourself quite clear, hum… How should I call you?"

The most beautiful eyes on Earth stare at him for a bit.

"Mycroft. May I call you Gregory?"

Lestrade looks at him with surprise.

"Well, nobody calls me that, but…"

"Then, I will call you Gregory for now on. I am truly and deeply sorry for your injuries", but the smile in his lips tells Greg that it isn't true. "May I pay you a drink? As an apology?"

Greg finally smiles a bit.

"You better do it, I am dying for some oblivion."

They laugh and Greg feels his heart warming up.

Yeah, he definitely likes Mycroft Holmes. Definitely.

* * *

_**Later**_

"Are you telling me", says Greg while they are walking towards the college bedrooms. "That your brother, which's name is Sherlock, wanted to be a pirate when he was a kid?"

His head is feeling a bit strange after some pints, but Lestrade can't care less. Mycroft isn't better either – his cheeks are blushed because of the laughing and the alcohol.

"Yes, yes. I've always thought he was an idiot. However, when we met another children, I realized that he was a little better than the average."

Greg laughs as he searches for his keys.

"Oh, you are so funny! I can't believe you still talking so correctly, even when you are drunk!"

Mycroft fakes an angry face.

"I am not drunk, Gregory. I am feeling slightly dizzy, that's all."

Greg finally opens his bedroom's door.

"Come in. You can leave when you feel better."

Mycroft nods, knowing that is dangerous to walk in that condition when you have so much enemies.

"Thank you, Gregory."

They both sit in the bed.

"Your room is…"

"Small?"

"I would say 'warm'", he shrugs. "Yes, it is small too."

Greg can't suppress a smile.

"You don't have to be so polite and posh around me, Mycroft. I will not judge you. Who am I to judge you, right?"

The other only stares at him for a while.

"What?", asks Greg, starting to feel unconfortable under his intense gaze. His blue eyes… Greg could drown himself looking at these eyes.

Mycroft approaches a little and slides his fingers at the front of Greg's shirt.

"What is your secret for this awesome body?"

Before they can think, their lips are pressed against each other, a hunger starting to rise at their chests.

_(If you ask Greg, he won't be able to say who kissed who first)_

Greg lays Mycroft down in his bed, kissing his mouth with a fever he didn't feel for a long, long time. When the other responds with equal eagerness, Greg can't suppress a moan.

"You are so gorgeous… I can stare at your beautiful eyes for my entire life."

As soon as possible, their clothes are on the floor, their naked bodies brushing against each other.

Greg bites Mycroft's neck, ear, lips, chest, licking at the freckles of his shoulders, moaning when their shafts meet.

"How can you be so gorgeous, Mycroft?"

The other just smiles and moans more. Greg licks one nipple and Mycroft shiver beneath him. He nips and bite it and Mycroft moans and moans more.

Greg kisses his mouth again, trying to hush him.

"Don't make so much noise, love. There are people inside the other rooms."

Lestrade starts to kiss Mycroft's body again, but the other can't make much noise with Greg's fingers inside his mouth.

When Greg licks Mycroft's shaft, the ginger boy trembles sorely, sucking at Greg's fingers with anxiety.

"You are going to be the death of me, Mycroft", Greg whisper on his ear, positioning his prick against Mycroft's.

With a bit of saliva in hands, they start to rub against each other, moaning with every thrust. Mycroft takes they both in hands and Greg closes his eyes, the vision of the posh boy so blushed almost so much for him.

It doesn't take long: they start to tremble and, with one more powerful thrust, they come in each other's hands.

"Oh, My, you are amazing."

Greg cuddles Mycroft.

"No, you are, my dear Gregory."

The happiness and the bliss send them right to a deep sleep.

_(Greg wouldn't admit it for anybody, but he fell in love with Mycroft at that moment.)_


	3. Prisoner of your love

**Hello, my dears!**

**All my thanks for sesquipedal_gil, a lovely person who agreed to read and correct this fanfic of mine (Thank you so much, my dear! You are amazing!)!**

**Hope you enjoy it,**

**Annie.**

* * *

Greg woke up with pain.

"Oh, my God, I think something blew up in my head."

"Yes, it is a good way to explain the pain."

Lestrade looked around the room, finding an already dressed Mycroft.

"Wait… What we-don't tell me…?"

Mycroft chuckled silently.

"You are smart enough to see what has happened, Gregory."

_(Mycroft was always right, the bloody bastard)_

"Oh... I am so sorry; I didn't mean to make a move on you." Greg groaned and stood up, using the blanket to cover his lower half. However, dizziness overcame him and he lost his equilibrium.

Luckily, Mycroft caught him before he fell, and helped him back onto the bed.

"Oi! Gregory, you don't want to hurt yourself, please stay still for a moment." Mycroft sat in the chair in front of Lestrade. "You are not sorry." He lifted an eyebrow at Greg's mumbled response. "Neither am I. We are both grown up and, besides all the drink, it was … an extremely pleasurable experience." He continued, smiling. "Thank you."

Greg's eyes widened.

"I-I…"

"There is no need to be so speechless, Gregory." He looked at his watch and stood up. "Well, I shall leave now; there are matters which need my attention. Have a nice day."

"Wait!"

With a grin, Mycroft shook his head.

"Have a nice day, Gregory." And he left.

Greg stood up to chase after him, but he remembered his nakedness and stayed.

"What the hell was that?" He thought, burying his face within shaking hands.

_(It wouldn't be the last time)_

* * *

"How was your shag?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes, trying not to frown.

"Brother dear, do enlighten me: what are you talking about?"

Sherlock's smile was positively devilish.

"I am fourteen, Mycroft, and smarter than any one my age. I can see the evidences of a hangover and teeth marks on your neck, so I deduce you had sex last night." He chuckled. "The question is: how can any person not notice your fat belly?"

Mycroft shut his lips tight in a firm line.

"Oh, perhaps I should tell Mummy. She would be delighted, you know. Always says that you need to meet someone, have friends…"

_(Less than five minutes with Sherlock and Mycroft was already regretting the decision to visit his parents and annoying younger brother)_

"Friends?" Mycroft smiled politely. "Go on. I should tell her that you have made a friend as well."

Sherlock snorted.

"Are you delusional, Mycroft? I don't have any friends."

"And what do you call Victor Trevor, brother dear? An acquaintance?" Mycroft's grin grew, seeing his brother's cheeks turning crimson. "Your face is turning a rather alarming shade of red, brother dear, is something the matter?"

"We don't need to tell anyone about this."

The older Holmes nodded. "I agree."

Sherlock smiled again. "But I still think your knight must be really blind to not see how fat you are."

Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Knight? Why not a girl?"

Sherlock grinned more.

"Don't try to fool me, Mycroft. In these matters, you are really transparent."

* * *

"Are you ok?"

"Of course I am ok, David. What are you talking about?" Said Greg, sitting in his chair. He would never admit it, but that was not quite true.

"Well…" Brad, another friend of his, started to talk with uncertainty. "We saw you and that… Mycroft hanging around last night. Did he hurt you?"

Greg lifted an eyebrow.

"How could he hurt me, guys? He punched me in the ring, of course, but I am a skilled fighter. It will take more than that to really put me down."

Silence was Greg's only answer.

"Why are you behaving so strangely today?" He asked.

"Greg, mate, um… We are only concerned about you. That guy, Holmes, is…" Tommy pulled himself closer and whispered, looking around with anxiety. "A faggot."

Greg grabbed the collar of Tommy's shirt with angry.

"Say that again and I will break your nose, Tommy. You are my friend, but you don't have the right to say that about a person you really don't know."

"Put him down, Gregory."

Four pairs of eyes looked at Mycroft with surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"And I thought you were smart, David. I can hear you." He turned to Greg. "You don't have to do this and, as much as I am touched by it, they are right."

Gregory let Tommy go.

"They aren't right, Mycroft. You are not a faggot."

A polite smile adorned Mycroft's lips.

_(At that moment, Greg couldn't think of anything about Mycroft he disliked more than that smile)_

"I am gay, Gregory, and everyone seems to know it." He turned around. "Thank you, but I don't need defense. I can take care of myself." He looked with amusement to the others, shrugging lightly. "I won't attack you, boys, you aren't really make my type. Have a nice day, Gregory."

The four stared at Mycroft's figure walking away from them.

"What were you doing, Greg? I thought we were friends!" Tommy whispered, adjusting the collar of his shirt and breaking their shock-induced silence.

"I am both sorry and not sorry for that. You are my friend, Tommy, but I will not tolerate any kind of bullying directed towards other student. Am I clear?"

"Yes, mate."

_(Down the hall, Mycroft, of course, heard everything and couldn't help the smile lifting at the corners of his lips at Greg's assertive words)_

* * *

It had been a long day. Sighing deeply, Mycroft fished the keys of his bedroom out of his pocket and started to unlock the door.

"So, you're going to run away from me like a scared chicken?"

That voice… Mycroft looked at his side and found the other boy leaning against the wall.

"Gregory, what are you doing here?"

"I am tired of so many questions." He said approaching Mycroft slowly. "I want answers."

Mycroft shrugged.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Greg pushed Mycroft inside the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about, Mycroft. And you didn't answer my question: why are you running away from me?"

"I could delate you because of this invasion…"

"Answer my question, Mycroft, NOW!"

_(For the first time in his life, the older of the Holmes brothers feared someone)_

"Because…" he swallowed and tried again. "I don't want to upset you and, you know, I do believe that caring is not an advantage."

Greg looked at him with curiosity.

"You are saying two contradictory things, Mycroft. If you don't want to upset me, that means you care about me and that makes your second sentence a lie." Greg leaned closer to the other boy, who was frozen in the middle of the room. "And I don't remember saying that being with you would upset me."

"You and I are not together, Gregory." Mycroft said, swallowing hard.

"Not yet, perhaps?" He caressed the other boy's cheekbone with one hand. "I want to be with you. I know this is new and hard, but I want to try it." He brushed his lips against Mycroft's. "With you."

The redhead melted against his touch.

"I can't…"

It was all Greg needed to deepen the kiss, tasting every corner of Mycroft's mouth.

"Say yes, please."

"Yes." Mycroft said breathless, looking deeply into Greg's eyes.

_(And the happiness Greg Lestrade felt at hearing that one three-lettered word knew no measure)_


End file.
